


Tender Loving Tyranny

by Lust_Demon



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety Attacks, Bad end, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Slow Burn, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, dub con/non con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lust_Demon/pseuds/Lust_Demon
Summary: A bad end for the Autobots, the Decepticons have won the war and the Autobots have all scattered across the universe trying to recoop and gather enough forces to return to the fight.  The ones that are found are rounded up and 'retrained' as pets for the loyal Decepticons as Megatron rebuilds their home planet with promises of a better world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been done a few times I know but hopefully I can make this interesting in my own way. I'll likely be focusing on different pairings in each chapter and slowly unfolding what's happening to everyone so I hope you all enjoy.

He had caught the Autobot fair and square, the poor little thing separated from his group. Straggling behind, he had obviously been suffering but the others hadn't wanted to stop and help him for fear of being overcome by the mech that was tracking them down. He grinned as he remembered the soft cries and pants that came from the bot when thick chains were curled around his frame. Overlord had gently placed him in the back of the transport and turned off all the lights, ensuring that the only thing he could use to see were his biolights. And those did shine bright, but only so far. He might be able to see a hand in front of his face but that was it. 

The transport had been backed up to the building where all the Autobots they had trapped were kept. Each in their own rooms, unable to see or hear one another. It made it easier to train when they couldn't plot amongst themselves. Overlord had moved the chains so they were locked on the Autobots wrists instead and let him walk under his own power into the room. It wasn't a cruel space at all. Just very simple. A small side room for bathing that was currently locked; undecorated walls in a dim beige color; no data pads or items of leisure; and a nice berth for him to rest on. Simple but effective. Once the Autobot learned he could only get things when he was good and if his new Master approved, then the test would truly begin. Some of them fought each step of the way and had to be convinced to behave while others hesitantly accepted their new lives. And then there were ones who couldn't accept at all. Who fought until their last vent and refused to give in to even the simplest requests. The ones who were irredeemable and needed to be sent to be repurposed. 

Overlord didn't actually like thinking about that. He preferred to think of what Lord Megatron was slowly setting up on their home planet. Cybertron was slowly being rebuilt the way the Decepticons wanted it, with them in control and everyone giving them respect. He was part of the clean up crew now. Capturing and training mechs the old fashioned way, with no memnosurgeons around to force their processors. But once he was done with his rotation he would be able to go home and enjoy the sights. He had a home waiting for him, even if he didn't have a pet of his own just yet. 

A soft whine took his attention back to the mech in the room and he looked over at the red and yellow mech. Rodimus they called this one. Not too bad to look at, and he didn't look like he'd be difficult to deal with. He looked partially broken with the way he was slumped over. Coolant beaded his frame and his vents were coming fast and hot as he looked around the room. 

“If you can behave for just a few joors, I’ll take the chains off you.” Overlord spoke calmly, firmly. 

His voice was deep, always demanded attention, so it was no surprise when the Autobot looked up and stared at him. The intensity was what surprised him, however, the need in those light blue optics set him back a step. Looking at Rodimus, he let out a low whistle and took a step towards the room. The pleximetal all that separated them, temporarily see through so Overlord could watch his newest capture. Over time they would darken it to give the Autobot the idea that he had privacy. 

“Why are you looking at me like that, little Autobot?  Just what's in your thoughts right now?” Overlord whispered, his optics drawn to the coolant that was making its way down Rodimus’ frame in a tauntingly slow drip. The bead curving over his abdomen and angling down in a way that had the bigger mech licking his lips. 

Then he saw the retracted panel. The painfully swollen valve lips that were glistening with lubricant. The Autobots had been traveling with a mech in heat and they had abandoned him rather than fight to keep him. Not that they would have stood a chance, but there hadn't even been a token effort or shout to stop. 

Even as he watched, Rodimus was shamelessly closing his thighs and rocking in an effort to get some sort of stimulation. His anterior node was glowing, begging to be licked or sucked on. Overlord could bet anything if he walked in right now, Rodimus would give him anything he asked as long as he helped abate the heat flooding him right now. Without thinking of any consequences, he created a thread on the ships broadband that this mech was his. No one would be allowed to touch him without Overlord's strict permission. The only one able to over turn the decision would be Lord Megatron and he was back on Cybertron. The mech looked nervous under the need and Overlord placed a hand to the pleximetal, seeing Rodimus actually lean towards it despite the fact that there was some distance between him and the wall. 

Going over to the energon dispenser on the wall, Overlord took out a quarter ration and walked into the room. He didn't bother to shut the door behind him just yet. He could see Rodimus watching him like a hawk and knew he wasn't going anywhere. Kneeling down beside the young mech, he held up the cube and listened to the sweet whines when Rodimus struggled to move closer to him. 

“Behave yourself, I'll feed you.” 

Overlord smiled and tipped the cube at Rodimus’ mouth so he could take small sips. The smaller bot was trying to move close, get more but Overlord kept his free hand on the others hip. The metal was almost too hot to the touch, but unlike the others that had come in before, he wasn't struggling away. The heat made him ignore who the touch came from and just focus on the fact that he was being touched at all. 

“Would you like a spike?” Overlord whispered, watching his reaction. 

There was instant fear and Rodimus started to pull away. While others might press this to their advantage, terrorize the small bot into submission, that wasn't as fun or as long lasting as what Overlord had planned. 

“Behave yourself.  Just for a joor, and I'll find you a false spike to ride. Something thick and long to reach deep up inside you. You can take your time with it. Fuck yourself on it when you're ready.” The Autobot was moaning, his hips moving in tiny humps even though there was nothing there yet. “I'll dim the lights to make it easier for you and you can imagine whoever you please as your soaking the floor with your lubricant.  Can you picture that. A nice quiet room like this, and all you can feel is the slick pounding of a spike in your valve…”

“Please. I'll behave.” Rodimus moved his upper half closer and Overlord allowed it, letting their noses touch briefly even as he felt the hot breath on his mouth. 

“I know you will. You can lay down on the berth if you need to. I'll be back as soon as I've found a nice sized toy for you…”

Overlord helped him to his feet, gently pushing Rodimus to the berth and biting back a groan when the smaller bot climbed on and presented his aft for just a few seconds. Once Rodimus caught himself, he pulled down in embarrassment and Overlord patted his hip. He could hear a soft whine being muffled in the pillow and grinned. Even though it wasn't necessary, he parted Rodimus’ legs and simply looked at the inviting valve. He could imagine the heat and pull of this wonderful valve and he started to salivate a bit as he wondered what sounds Rodimus would make if he were to lick him right that moment. 

“I think I have something just the right size.” Overlord rubbed his thighs before stepping away. 

Rodimus turned a bit on the bed, confused but grateful that it had stopped there. The heat was screaming at him to call Overlord back, but he couldn't forget that this was a Decepticon that would do Primus knew what to him. His wrists wriggled the chains a bit and he licked his lips as he watched Overlord leave and the pleximetal darkened so he couldn't see anything. 

It wasn't for Rodimus’ benefit that the wall was darkened so no one could see him, that was just an added bonus. Overlord didn't want anyone being tempted with the sight of Rodimus. He had created a thread on the broadband, but that didn't mean there weren't some here that would be stupid enough to try ignoring or claiming ignorance. He was going to cultivate Rodimus slowly and ensure the heat addled mech became dependant and adoring towards only him. He loathed the idea of sharing this mech with others and he was in a high enough position that he could demand that. 

The cherry red mech would only be for him, a tender treat to sink into after a hard days work. A sweet mech to cuddle and spoil as much as he wanted. His vents quickened at the thought of Rodimus straddling his thighs, begging for affection and giving just as much in turn. Giving his head a shake, he took another vent. He couldn't let himself be trapped by those ideas. Megatron had made it clear that these mechs they captured were pets.  That was why the Decepticons had won and the Autobots were all scattered, Decepticons were stronger and deserved the spoils that war brought. It was painful for some of them to know there were mechs on the other side that they knew, but this was a necessary evil. 

Striding down the hallway, he paused when he came to the engineering lab. He knocked once to announce himself, then opened the door, assured that there was nothing inside that could hurt him. He was a bit unnerved by the sight of the mech working. The double agent looked tired, his plating dull and optics sadly tracking his work as he pieced something together. From what Overlord understood, he had taken his place as a spy to try to watch out for a friend. The phase sixer wouldn't doubt if he still was trying to help, judging by the look on his face. 

“Brainstorm, I need something with medium firmness.” Overlord stepped over to the table, pretending he didn't see the picture of a lithe white mech that was quickly cleared off the datapad Brainstorm had. 

Despite whatever troubled Brainstorm, he didn't let it impede his work. Bringing up a file, he flicked it into a hologram for them to peruse and slim down the pickings. 

“Something simple, no mods, no vibrations.” Overlord muttered as he narrowed the search. “There…”

Finding one of just the right size, he smiled and glanced down to see where in the lab it had been stored. In a way it was almost like an inventoried armory but Brainstorm was always creating more and the “weapons” were of a more intimate variety. Taking the toy out of storage, he quickly cleaned it off even though it looked perfectly fine. Before he could leave, he looked back to Brainstorm and sighed quietly. 

“You should think about visiting the medic. You don't look well.” he could tell Brainstorm wanted to argue and lifted a hand. “Lord Megatron wouldn't take well to knowing you still have old pictures around, especially if you're going to look at them the way you do. Put it aside. Focus on what you can do for the Decepticons.”

“Yes sir.” Brainstorm nodded and put his shoulders back, his wings flicking absently. 

He more than likely would continue to moon for the mech, but there was no way Overlord could force him to forget. Unless he got him a shiny new pet that was eager to please. It would take a certain type to appease the scientist and Overlord wasn't entirely certain there were any that matched what Brainstorm would want. His walk back to the pets training cells was quiet and Overlord was grateful that there was no one who had come to see his newest addition. He unlocked the door of the cell and bit back a moan when he saw that Rodimus had somehow worked the pillow down between his thighs and was trying to use it for friction. 

Seeing Overlord, the Autobot panicked and pulled back, nearly falling off the bed as he tried to make some distance. Locking the door behind him, Overlord took a breath when he saw wisps steam coming off of Rodimus. He still had the false spike in hand and when he raised it up he could see the Autobot leaning towards him. Crouching down, he tried to make it appear that he wasn't paying attention to Rodimus. There was a thick suction on the base that he activated so it would stand straight up. Once it was secure, he playfully gave it a light smack so it wobbled and looked up at Rodimus. The poor mech had one leg off the bed, hesitant but needy for the toy. 

“Do you like what I've brought you?” Overlord kept his voice even, tried to push away images of Rodimus stuffed full of the toy. 

“Yes.” Rodimus’ vocals were laced with static, full of need. 

“Yes, Sir.” Overlord corrected quietly. 

It looked like Rodimus didn't want to say it and Overlord couldn't blame him. But he couldn't let it slide either. Casually, he stroked the false spike, watching the way Rodimus watched him. 

“Say it. Yes, Sir.”

There was still a few seconds of hesitation, then Rodimus lowered his head, looked at the ground as his lower lip quivered faintly. Finally he whispered the words Overlord needed to hear. “Yes… Sir,” 

It was quiet but it was a start and the bigger mech nodded as he stood up, moving over to Rodimus and helping him stand. The smaller mechs knees were weak and he leaned on Overlord for support, staring at the false spike like a mech dying of thirst. Overlord placed himself behind Rodimus and helped him kneel down. Since his panel was open, he was ready for it but Overlord kept him from slamming down too fast. His hands grasped Rodimus by the hips and he listened to the needy gasps, felt the jerk as he strained to drop down the full length. He guided Rodimus at an easy pace, taking just the tip and smearing his lubricants across the head. 

“Please, please, just let me have it.” Rodimus was shaking and Overlord leaned over him, more than tall enough to look over his shoulder. 

“You have a choice. I can let you fuck it at your pace right away, then I'll take it away. Or. You can use the pace I set, and I'll let you keep it.” Overlord smiled and pet his helm, letting him feel a few more inches. 

“N-not fair. I need more than once.” Rodimus was pouting and Overlord gave in to the urge to kiss his neck. 

“No, it's not fair. But those are your choices. Do what I ask, and I’ll give you all you need. You could even go to sleep with it tucked inside you.”

Rodimus groaned, his cheeks flushed from heat and embarrassment. He had expected Overlord to take advantage and use him then toss him aside. Even now he didn't trust him, but his thoughts were caught up in the need to chase his overload. Nodding minutely, he waited for Overlord to let go of his hips. The strong fingers continued to gently rub and massage his hips and thighs a bit, not yet moving. He nodded again, ready to be let go of and frustrated that it wasn't happening. He had a feeling he knew just what Overlord wanted and whined, his spoilers arching downward. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He gasped when he felt a thick tip bump his backside and tensed, feeling a small smear of liquid at the small of his back. 

“Good mech.” Overlord groaned. 

Then the hands were moving him and he gasped as his valve was gently pressed open. With his hands tied behind him, he could feel the other mechs spike being rubbed against his back and curled his fingers around it. It was the heat that made him grasp for the warm, real spike.  His fingers curled around the thickness and he mapped the length of it in awe. He knew he shouldn't want it but his valve was clenching at the thought of real warmth and strong thighs clapping against his aft with each pump. He was aware of Overlord calling him a good mech, but what he was focusing on was the fact that each gentle touch had Overlord lifting and then grinding him down on the toy. Lost in a bit of fantasy, he groaned and leaned his weight into Overlord's hands, squeezing down the length that was rutting against his back. 

“I wouldn't be able to frag you right now.” Overlord gasped. “The way you feel, I couldn't last a minute. And you deserve a good deep frag to tire you out. You need it don't you, sweet spark?”

Rodimus nodded, relaxing when he realized Overlord wouldn't frag him.  Hating that part of him still wanted it. Abruptly, however, Overlord stopped and made him rest with his valve at the base of the toy, refusing to let him grind or move again.  One hand was at his thigh and he grit his teeth, letting his head fall back. 

“Yes Sir!” 

“So loud this time.” 

Overlord groaned and gently slapped his thigh but didn't let him move his hips yet. He moved his free hand to Rodimus’ anterior node and stroked it gently, his other hand grabbed hold of the chains around his wrists and used that to guide him with the thrusts. With that little help he was mostly bouncing on the toy on his own now, his spark pounding as he looked down and watched the way Overlord rubbed his node. Biting his lower lip, he shuddered when he felt lips on his neck and moaned when the fingers stopped and Overlord abruptly brought him to a stop. 

“Not yet.  Got to make it last.”

Rodimus wasn't sure if Overlord meant himself or his newly acquired Autobot. He whined as he was lifted up until just the head of the false spike was inside him and he tried to lean his weight into the phase sixer, hoping it would encourage him to keep going. He could feel the big mechs spike being rubbed against his aft and swallowed back the tension that was threatening to make him scream. Backing his aft up, he heard a quick exhale and he was moved carefully.  The fingers on his node flicking in tight circles. 

“Frag yes.” Rodimus’ knees gave out and he jerked his hips, pushing into Overlord’s fingers. “Please just, a little more.”

“I should be a little kinder to you shouldn't I?” 

“Please... please Sir.” Rodimus closed his optics.  

“Good mech.” Overlord whined in turn and moved him down until Rodimus was taking the entire spike. Focusing his attention on the lithe neck and sensitive node under his fingertips, he groaned as Rodimus shook in his grasp. 

He nipped one spoiler and watched eagerly as Rodimus rolled his hips to move the false spike to a slightly better position. The flame painted mech sighing and gasping as he was played with. 

“Please, let me overload.” Rodimus looked over his shoulder to the mech holding him. “Please, I need it. I'm so close, I…”

“I won't be mean to you, sweet spark. Overload for me. Just for me.” 

Rodimus felt his spark clench at those words but his heat was making him nod in agreement, crying softly as the fingers quickened the rubs. The touch just a little rougher now, making his hips shift upwards for more. He could practically picture Overlord thrusting into him from behind and moaned at the idea, shamed but eager. His frame tensed as he overloaded, his head falling back as the big mech sucked and bit his neck cables. Even as he relaxed, the lubricant sliding down the toy, Overlord’s hand wouldn't stop moving. His fingers were demanding, gently pinching his node and rubbing it even though Rodimus couldn't move. His legs felt too heavy to even wiggle and Overlord was dragging him to another overload. The big mechs mouth on him, sucking and kissing until Rodimus felt his spark twist nervously. 

“Just one more, beautiful. One more time for me.”

“Sir.” Rodimus keened and gasped when he felt movement behind him. 

Overlord groaned, jerking his spike quickly, panting as he looked at the pretty red plating that begged for him to mark it with his transfluid. Rodimus was a whimpering mess, perfectly pliant and too tired to move more than an inch. Moaning, he latched his lips onto Rodimus’ neck again and muffled his groans. He wanted to bury his spike in the sweet heat of Rodimus’ valve but it was too soon for that. He needed the pretty bot pliant in more than one way. He needed him desperate even when the heat wasn't driving him. Rubbing that little node in time with the strokes he gave his spike, he grinned as Rodimus squirmed. He knew the smaller bot had to be over sensitive by now, but he was a phase sixer for a reason. He was relentless when it came to chasing what he wanted. Feeling a heat in his tanks, he groaned as a rush of transfluid squirted from his tip and landed on the small of Rodimus’ back, dripping onto his aft. Gliding his hand away from Rodimus’ array, he kissed his neck again and undid the lock on the chains. 

Too sated to move much, Rodimus leaned back and tried to draw his arms in front of him. He rubbed his sore wrists as best he could, swallowing when he felt Overlord kissing his helm and then down his spinal struts. 

“You want to go to berth, sweet spark?”

“Please.  Can't take another overload…” Rodimus groaned and then gasped as he was scooped up carefully. As he was pulled up the false spike slipped free and he moaned at the loss. 

Overlord set him on the berth carefully and gently rubbed his belly, smiling down at the weak Autobot. Picking the toy off the floor, he smirked when he saw the puddle of lubricant around it. Moving back to the berth, he picked up one of Rodimus’ sleek legs and gently slid the toy back into place, ignoring the whimpered protests. 

“You'll thank me in the morning when your heat comes back again. Just keep it nice and snug inside you. I promise, tomorrow you can frag yourself with it to your sparks content.” Overlord kissed his cheek then claimed Rodimus’ mouth, groaning as Rodimus was too tired to fight this. He wanted to do so many things to those pouting lips but he needed to restrain himself. Just a little longer, he could wear Rodimus down until he was more accepting of him. 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

Rodimus looked away as he said it but Overlord could train that out of him too. Kissing him one last time, he pulled away and tucked his spike back behind his privacy panel. He pulled the light blanket up around Rodimus’ shoulders and left the room, locking the door after himself. Checking the ships broadband, he made some adjustments to the schedules. He couldn't be out hunting Autobots when he was needing to train this one. Perhaps the Scavenger group would like to have a turn hunting some of the more easy prey. Looking at the incoming transmissions, he grimaced. The DJD was apparently going to be in his region and would need to dock with his ship while they got rest and supplies. The change in how they hunted the mechs on the List meant a different style of tools for the team and they were frequently getting new toys for the former Decepticons they tracked down. Overlord smiled faintly, crossing his arms over his chassis. From what he heard, Deadlock was the one they we're currently after. That one would make quite the interesting pet, if one liked them feral. 


	2. Bombs and Dinos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this for a while and I managed to get it almost how I like it. A big thank you to Decepticrazy, Stories_from_Unicron and Charon_the_Sabercat for their input and help as I've been writing. This is turning into a larger undertaking than I originally planned but I'm really enjoying it.

Admittedly, when Fulcrum first heard the news that Decepticons had won the war, there was a margin of relief that he had felt. No more fighting and running around like crazy?  The possibility that food would no longer be rationed and taste less gritty? Sign him the frag up. But when the Scavengers he met had excitedly told him that the Autobots were being rounded up and caged as pets, he felt the first hints of worry. This wasn't exactly what he thought would be happening after the war. This wasn't what they had in mind when the revolution started, he was sure.

Then again, he didn't want to fight. He'd always been hesitant about it.  He was a techie after all so when the fighting came close to him, he ended up running. Which was why he was on The List.

Watching Misfire syphon energon out of a corpse, his tanks churned and he swallowed back nervousness. He was sitting at a fire with the Scavengers, having only met them a joor or so earlier. Once they realized he wasn't actually dead it had gone great with everyone sharing what supplies they could, but ever since Crankcase brought up the enslaved Autobots it had taken on a more serious tone.

“So are mechs on The List being pardoned?” He asked in a tone that he was sure was calm and collected.

Misfire had looked up at him then, tilting his head like an off kilter cruiser. “Pardoned?  Nah. I mean, they're not gonna die anymore. But they're being hunted down, same as the Autobots.”

“I'm sure Lord Megatron will give them fair trials.” Krok had interrupted and shrugged a shoulder before taking a drink of the cold fluid they drained out of the body.

And if Fulcrum believed that, maybe there was a magical wish granting femme that would come along and give him a tame turbo fox. But he wasn't about to raise any more suspicion. If deserters were being hunted, that's all he needed to know.

“How come you're traveling alone?” Krok asked softly, drawing attention back to Fulcrum.

“Separated from my crew. There's still pockets of Autobots fighting, guess they haven't heard the wars over yet. Anyway, I'm sure I'll find them again. I'm patient.” Fulcrum shrugged absently and then rubbed at his lower back. “I should get back to my ship and try hailing them again.”

Lies needed to be simple to work. Misfire was nodding happily as he helped take apart the body for parts but Krok and the one called Flywheels didn't look completely convinced. Getting up from his seat, Fulcrum nodded to them and started away from the fire they had made. Keeping his steps steady was difficult, he wanted to burst into a run and find a place he could use as a defensible base until the others left. It took every bit of courage that he didn't think he had, but he walked calmly away from the group. The big problem here was that he didn't have a ship to go back to. He had been air dropped onto the planet and he had fully expected to die but instead he had froze up quite literally. Apparently as a bomb, he was a dud. He had no idea why it happened, maybe some twisted grace of Primus. But now he was on the run from the DJD and there was a small group here that suspected him. He didn't have a weapon on him and his only alt mode was stationary so he had to depend on his two pedes to get him the frag out of there. If the Scavengers decided to go looking for him, they'd ask where his ship was and he wouldn't be able to answer, then they'd all take him in for a reward and more attempts at reprogramming, if he was lucky he'd only be a punching dummy for some big beefy Con.

His vents we're coming quick and harsh and Fulcrum pressed a hand to his chassis as he tried to steady himself. The Scavengers managed to find him and they thought he was dead. Therefore, there might be other ships or mechs for parts here. He was good with engineering, he could rig together a blaster to protect himself. He just needed to calm down and stop seeing problems everywhere he turned. This wasn’t where he thought he would be when the science mechs were picking at his processor and sliding energon knives through his plating to alter him to their own desires.  Clenching his jaw, he looked behind him and let himself relax a fraction when he saw there was no one there.

Cresting over a hill, his optics widened when he saw something that might have been a miracle. His feet kept moving without him realizing and he lifted his head to try to get a better look at it. Even with part of the massive ship buried in the ground, he recognized it as one of the old fleet ships. Only a handful were made and he'd only seen holos of them before now. If there was anywhere to find parts and piece together an escape, it was in here. Fulcrum took a breath and started to skid down the hill, aiming himself at the ship with a grin. He'd scour this thing from top to bottom, or at least as much as time allowed, and if he was lucky there would be an escape shuttle he could grab.

That magical wish granting femme was looking more realistic each minute that passed.

Near the bottom, he jumped and started running, his spark racing and his plating clicking as it was jostled from his movements. The ship looked like it had seen some years so likely there was no one alive on there. Which worked in his favor because if the Scavengers showed up, he could claim these were his lost comrades. Once he reached the ship, he found a door and shoved at it until it was open a crack, grunting when he managed to squeeze himself inside and then kicking the door shut again. Even though the temperature outside the ship was cool, it was warm enough inside that it seemed like all the systems were still running. He set a hand on the wall and frowned when he couldn't find the familiar hum of an engine coming from deeper inside. The sun wasn't up either so he didn't know where that heat could have been coming from.

Fulcrum shuddered as he listened to his footsteps echoing, painfully aware of every click of his plating and even the soft hum of his internals. He knew he didn’t hear anything follow him in, but he continued to look over his shoulder as he went deeper into the ship, searching for bodies or a journal log that would tell him what happened here. It didn't make any sense not to find bodies of some sort here unless the ship had been shot down and everyone got away on escape shuttles. But if that was the case, when had it happened?  He and the other bombs we're supposed to be dropped on this planet to wipe out whatever was on the surface. He didn't know what exactly they had tossed him at, only that he was being thrown out to die along with dozens of others in the air and possibly hundreds on the ground. He heard the name ‘Clemency’ being passed around before the drop doors opened but no other details were given because they weren’t necessary for dead mechs walking.

Passing a hand over his helm, he paused when he finally heard the very soft sound of an engine. Cupping his audial, he gently bit his glossa as he concentrated and counted the whirls and thrums of the engine in the distance. Absolutely steady. No irregularities. It was just a machine then, and not a Cybertronian. He should have felt relieved but it was starting to sink in just how alone he was going to be now. His optics lowered to the ground as he walked and he paused briefly when he saw that sections of the floor had burn marks from what he assumed were shots of plasma blasters. Seeing as this was an abandoned Decepticon ship, he wasn't totally surprised. Even if it hadn't been damaged in the crash, it was possible that a couple of mechs got out of hand when arguing and took pot shots at one another.  There was always a threat of that happening when you got too many violent mechs in one spot and stress levels rose to incomprehensible levels. Burn marks were never easy to get out and when he came closer to the walls he saw stains of what had to be energon that was cleaned away with some sort of low end solvent. The energon was cleaned off, but it had sat for long enough that it left an outline where it puddled. Which was a little odd but he couldn’t really linger on that.

He wasn’t an expert, but he guessed that the burn marks were older and let his mind trail away from them so he could worry about something else that was more immediate.  Since there was something still running on the ship, he needed to find out where it was and either turn it off or alter it to his benefit. If it was something on the ship that could be linked to the defense systems, he might be able to turn on the shields or the guns to add to his safety.  Or it could just be something as useful as an energon converter. Even an old ration machine would be good because he had no idea what he could rummage from the ship for fuel. Oil and gas would be alright in a pinch, and it would be better than what the Scavengers were currently doing. He had drank what they offered because he needed it but he didn’t want a diet of syphoned energon off of bodies of the dead.  

Shuddering, he continued to make his way through the ship, keeping a mental map of where he was going.  If things went well then he would only need to grab a few things and scamper on his merry way. But things hadn’t been going well even before he woke up to someone elbow deep in his innards.  And if mechs on the List were being hunted so they could be taken in and treated as punching bags then it wasn’t going to get better. He wasn’t going to kid himself with the thought that he’d be treated like an Autobot and made into some sort of servant.  Deserters were always looked down on before the war ended and he could imagine the responses Decepticons would have to List Mechs now. You couldn’t just walk back into HQ and say ‘oh slag sorry I wasn’t here, but everything is cool now, right?’

But what about finding Autobots and trying to make a go of it with them?  Surely they could understand a desire to just survive and could work with him.  He had skills he could offer as long as they weren’t asking him to fight. He didn’t like Autobots, but the enemy of his enemy could be his friend.  Although… it also depended on what Autobot he managed to find. One of the softer ones would take him in right away, but wouldn’t those be the types that would be caught the quickest?  Fulcrum frowned and reached a hand out to rest on the wall as he walked down the corridor. He could feel the distant rumbling of the engine and instinctively looked behind him before he forged ahead once more.  Using the tips of his fingers, he felt out where the rumbling was firmer and followed it towards the source. His jaw was tight and his vents were barely open, after meeting the Scavengers and hearing their take on matters he wasn’t eager to meet any other Decepticons unless they were like him.  

For that matter, were the mechs on the List being hunted by the DJD like before, or was it more of a casual hunt now and anyone could try their hand at some of the ‘lesser offenders’ like him who just wanted to run.  Someone dangerous would have to be handled by someone who could hold their own in a fight like a tank or a fighter jet. But until he found some way to defend himself, whether it was with someone to help him or by finding weapons that he could use and a suitable spot to hide away where no one would think to find him, everyone that he saw was a potential threat. His spark felt like it was sinking lower as he considered that he might simply be alone for the rest of his (potentially very short) life.

Closing his optics briefly, he swallowed before continuing further down the hall, following the sound of the engine on the thin thread of hope that it would lead to something productive. He had never been much of an optimist and this situation really wasn't helping at all.

“I'm so fragged.” He hissed to himself and pressed against the wall as he found the ground under him was sloping a bit downward.

It took a minute for him to adjust to the darkness as he went further down, the faint shine of his biolights all that was keeping him from walking around blind. There was an old scent of spilled energon that must never have been cleaned up, but as soon as that registered with him, he was ignoring it in favor of exploring with his hands to find what was laying in wait for him.

The wall had marks in it from what felt like claws digging into the metal and he shuddered as he thought about how much strength would have to be behind that sort of attack. His legs were shaking the further he got, the smell of old energon only getting stronger. But the feel and sound of that engine was persisting so he couldn't turn back. He was so close to something that might help him survive and he couldn't just drop it because of some imaginary fright waiting for him. He couldn't hear another Cybertronian engine, not even the ambient rustle of vents of some assassin waiting in the rafters for him to expose his neck.

Although really, he was so exposed and vulnerable that an assassin wouldn't have to wait to get the drop on him. They could kill him at any second. So that meant there was no assassin. Right?

This was the sort of paranoid thinking that could get him killed. Gritting his denta, he lightly rapped his helm with his fist and took another step forward.

His gut dropped when he felt nothing under his pede and he was pitched forward. The darkness was a blessing and a curse because he couldn't see what was coming. Flailing his arms outwards, he screamed as his fingers caught on ridges that he assumed were pipes and then slipped off them so he kept falling with barely any halt to his descent. Yelping as his fingers were dented and cracked with each ridge he got on the way down, he scrambled to stop himself from plummeting.  His vents were knocked out of him when he hit a ledge on the way down, his body being forced backwards so his grip was further from the edge and he couldn’t scramble for a hold any longer. His vocals seized up, freezing the scream as his t-cog forced him to change with the free fall and he folded inwards on himself.

Transforming was supposed to be natural and easy.  It was supposed to be just another part of yourself that you could show to the world and use when your two pedes weren’t quite enough.  This was just the bad punchline to a sick joke that had been forced on him. He was dropping in his alt mode and the only thing he could be sure of was there there wouldn’t be anyone to pick him up again when he hit the bottom.  He couldn’t even struggle against the fall, only stay cramped and cradled inside his armor while lines of code spattered across his processor, remnants from the ‘training’ that was supposed to give him a moment of bliss and satisfaction before he blew up.

::It’s time to shine.:: The program queued up the words, too upbeat for the morbid moment.

If he was standing upright he would have upended his tanks in disgust as the cheerful words continued in this vein.

::You’re going to be great.::

Was it part of some sadistic choice that they left him aware while he was dropping or was it just something that they couldn’t get around so they threw this in at the last minute?  Why couldn’t he have been like the others, so happy to jump and--

::Do your part for the Decepticon army.:: It continued to ‘remind’ him.

Was he making that whining sound from his vocalizer or was it the air pressure sliding around him as he dropped making a sharp whistle?  

::Calm down.::

There was a deep thud as he finally hit the ground and he could have sobbed when the sensation of being lost in the air stopped and he was given the grace of knowing he was laying against something.  Venting rapidly, he wiped the training code away from his thoughts and pushed outwards with his tcog. Shaking back and forth, he knew he looked like a ridiculous overgrown egg but he didn’t care. The first thing to unfold was his arms and he scrambled to shove at the rest of him like he could make it transform faster, his optics squeezed shut until the last of the alt mode was clicked out of place and he looked normal again.  Sitting on his knees, he rocked back and forth minutely as he started to pat the ground. Softly at first and then firmer, letting his hands tell himself that he was on the ground. There was no further to fall and he wasn’t going to be forced into that shape again.

He curled himself downward and pressed his forehelm to the ground, opening his optics even though it was still too dark to see anything.  Coolant welled up in his optics and he grit his denta as his finger curled inwards and he let out a sharp hiss of air, bringing his fist down quickly, his spark jumping at the tiny thud he made.  He could feel a nastiness at the back of his mind and his throat.

That’s what it sounded like when he hit the ground. 

What meager amount he had managed to swallow down when he was with the Scavengers threatened to come back up again and he clamped a hand to his mouth to stop it.  Continuing to rock, he slowly looked up and tried to get a look around, brightening his biolights as much as he dared. At least the programming was quiet now, it wasn’t trying to tell him that he was a bad mech for not blowing up like he was supposed to.  Part of him wanted to let out a pathetic little laugh but he still didn’t know what might be listening down here. Slowly, he got to his pedes and did a turn around to inspect what he could.

Large tubes lined the walls, a good number of them broken in spots with glass shards cracked closer to the top.  His jaw dropped minutely when he realized that he’d hit the jackpot. Cryotubes. The parts could be repurposed in so many ways, even with the windows broken it didn’t matter because there was so much else he could do with them.  The super cooling agents and towers that ran the programs keeping the mechs under ice were a massive blessing. As he walked closer to the tubes he could see that there were some bodies inside but the scent of cold dead energon was there to reassure him that nothing was going to lumber out and grab him.

The cryotubes were massive and his brow furrowed as he checked the bodies, closing his vents so the smell would be kept out as much as possible.  The bodies had different insignias, Autobot and Decepticon. From what he could see they were all Cybertronian, however. If the Scavengers got down here, they’d have a field day getting whatever they wanted.

Frag that.  This was his ill gotten booty.

But he should do something with the bodies.  Some sort of memorial to them or something shouldn’t he?  He had no idea why they were all down here, but presumably the Autobots were prisoner of war.  The Decepticons… maybe they were others on the list or ones that had screwed up in the eyes of their commanding officers in some way?  His fingers trailed down the dull grey of a cryotube and he studied one of the faces in the dim lighting, squinting to make out the features.

“Primus’ breath blew me out of this path.” Fulcrum muttered softly to himself.

Of course, it blew him onto a path that was equally as dangerous and deadly, but here he was alive when otherwise he should be dead.  And here these bodies were, supposed to be preserved, and they were cold. Bodies gathered up sometime after he had been dropped here, he knew that much for certain.  Swallowing thickly, he turned and started to feel his way around in the dimly lit room. Biolights weren’t a lot, but maybe he could find an emergency pack in here somewhere with a flare or a flashlight that he could set up.  His shoulder smacked another door as he went and he muttered a soft curse, moving to the side and gingerly feeling the way with his pede.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

His vents were slow and easy but that didn’t make any sense.  He had been fighting hadn’t he? His body felt cold but there was no restrictions holding him against a hard slab.  No singular optic staring down at him or an energy scalpel sliding through his armor to expose the protometal beneath.  He could feel some tension around his limbs but it was a flimsy sort that he easily pulled at and broke with barely a thought.  There was a soft scuffing sound to the right of him and he lifted his helm, pushing the blockade in front of him with a grimace.  There was a jarring sound of metal scraping across metal and he took a heavy step forward, pulling in a vent and groaning softly as he tested the limits of his frame.  It felt like he had been sleeping for so long but he couldn’t remember laying down to recharge. The soft scuffing sound had stopped and he looked towards the source, narrowing his optics at it.

Small, but then so much was small in comparison to him.  Trembling like a glitch mouse and staring up at him in fear.  Wasn’t he supposed to protect those who were small?

_“They need you.  I know you don’t need them, but they need you.” A mech put a hand on his shoulder and he hated the contact even as he nodded in agreement._

Small enough to be protected, but why was this other mech so frightened?  He tilted his head faintly and scanned down the other’s frame, looking for wounds and finding a number of dents and scrapes all along his plating.  Dried energon trailed from the stranger’s servos and along his sides.

“Please don’t kill me.” The little orange mech cringed back from him.

Taking another step forward, he growled low and took a sniff, his lips curling in a snarl behind his battlemask.  His eyes caught the dingy and dented sight of a Decepticon sigil that the other mech was wearing and his hand started to go for his sword, anger burning through his veins.

“No please, no, I’m not a threat.” The Decepticon babbled as his eyes flared from gold to white with panic.  “I can-- I can help you! I’m on the List!”

That gave him some pause and he held his sword downward for the moment, ready to bring it up in a swing through the mech’s chest if he gave any sort of hint that he might run or try to attack.

“How you help Grimlock?”

The words came out in a rough growl, more animalistic than he intended.  However, the beastial tone had the effect of making the mech quiver further and flinch away from him.  His head tilted just a bit and he took another step forward, bending down and reaching with his free hand for the frightened Decepticon.

“Things have changed!” The mech’s vocals cracked and he grabbed at Grimlock’s wrist like he could possibly get him to let go.  “The Decepticons won but it’s all fragged up. They’re rounding up Autobots and making them into slaves.”

Freezing up at the words, Grimlock’s fingers slowly started to curl inwards on the mech’s armor, a sharp screech coming from not just the metal but from the pained mech as he strained to get away.  His optics flashed with panic and coolant spilled over from the corners of his optics, trailing down his cheeks.

“Not me!  I’m on the List, they’ll do it to me too if they don’t kill me first.” The Decepticon continued to babble, his small hands trying to hit Grimlock’s hand away.  “I’m not a threat to you, I’m not a threat to anyone.”

“You Decepticon.” Grimlock snarled low and pulled the mech up closer to him, his blazing red optics flicking to the symbol on the mech’s helmet.

“I don’t want this!”

_“Please I don’t want to.” A small mechling was sobbing in an alley, a barely useful knife held in his shaking hands._

“I just wanted the fighting to stop, to go back to Cybertron, I never wanted this.”

His hand began to uncurl slowly, staring at the mech as another face superimposed itself over this stranger.  Bowing his head faintly, he grit his denta and dropped the Decepticon, turning around and raising up his sword so he could ignite it and make it easier to see around the room.  He stared at the cryotubes and huffed as he stomped closer to one and took a look inside, looking for a familiar face in there.

“It’s weird right?  I mean, not weird that they have other bodies in here, but there are both factions in here.” The Decepticon piped up daringly.  “This is a fleet ship, and if I’m right then this planet is Clemency cause that’s where we were supposed to be dropped. But this is a Decepticon ship.  And if… if there’s more than just Autobot bodies here, I think I might know what was going on.”

Grimlock turned slightly to look back at the small orange mech.  He looked stern and angry, his fists resting on his thighs as he rested back against the cryotube that Grimlock had been inside just moments before.

“Before, things were shit and if you turned traitor they’d kill you.  In horrible ways, they’d execute you, they actually made videos of it and make us watch it during movie nights.  They’d always frame it in this way that made it seem like they were doing it because they had to, but if… if someone is forcing your hand, you don’t make it seem like a game when you kill them.” The Decepticon rubbed at his helm and seemed to shrink in on himself, his vocals getting a bit softer.  “When I.. when I -ran- they were going to do that but they changed their minds. Repurposed me and others, they… -changed- us. Made us living weapons. Different sort of weapons.”

The Decepticon looked up and around the room, a horrified dawning in his optics.  

“This ship crashed sometime after I dropped but it’s -full- of bodies.  I… I think… the slave thing, they’ve been planning this for a while. It’s just been stepped up slowly over the course of the war…”

“You no like, you be slave too.” Grimlock curled his lip behind the mask, a dark chuckle coming from him.

“You’re kidding right?  I only tried to run and they put me on the List.  I’m not even important but they couldn’t let me go.” The Decepticon’s vocals cracked and he put a hand on the cryotube door, turning slightly like he wanted to crawl inside it and hide.  “They’ll torture me and kill me. There’s no place for a traitor to the cause.”

There was small steps and Grimlock narrowed his gaze, shifting his weight and turning to see that the orange mech was cautiously coming closer to him.  He was obviously scared, but he was offering his empty hand to Grimlock, presumably showing everything he could offer.

“You’re strong, obviously.  And I’m pretty smart, I’m an engineer.  I can make things, fix them. There are other Decepticons on this planet and I’m pretty sure two of them suspect me being on the List already.  If we work together, we can find a way off this planet. I’m not saying we’ve gotta stay together, but we have a better chance if we work together.” The Decepticon rushed through his proposition.  “I think we should see what we can salvage from here, any food or weapons that we can carry. Plasma rifles are good because you don’t run out of ammo but they’ve got cooldown times on how fast and often you can shoot.  Vibra blades are good for closer combat for me and you’ve got… -that-.”

His optics widened as he pointed to Grimlock’s sword and the Dinobot raised a brow absently before switching hands, putting a hand on his hip as he simply stood and listened.  The smaller mech was slowly starting to pick up speed with his talking and Grimlock watched as he started to pace back and forth, his hands gingerly waving as he talked and set out what he thought was a good plan.  

“So then once we have those then we should be able to jerry rig an emergency pod here, this ship -has- to have emergency pods that are still functional enough to take into space--”

“No.” Grimlock shook his head with a snort and watched as the Decepticon deflated and slowly took a step back.

“I… I know you can do this alone but it really would be easier with me.  I know Decepticon systems and you should know Autobot ones, so we should be able to get into anything we come across.” There was a pleading to the small bots tone.

“Yes.” Grimlock nodded slowly.

“Yes?  Yes! Then we’ll get a pod and--”

“No.” Grimlock stomped his pede with a huff, starting to walk towards the Decepticon.

“But… wha…?”

“There other Decepticons here, yes?  We find ship, me Grimlock kill anyone try to stop us.  We steal their ship. We leave.”

“We leave.” The Decepticon relaxed and let his hands fall, swallowing as he nodded.  “Yeah, we leave together, and we stay together?”

Grimlock stared at the hopeful looking mech and let out a slow vent.  Such a small mech wasn’t a threat to him. He’d have to be on his guard, but there should be nothing such a small mech could do that would threaten him.  He nodded slowly and watched as the smaller mech crumpled inwards.

“Oh thank Primus.  We’ll stay together.  You and me, we’re gonna be a good team.  Don’t you worry, you won’t regret this, I promise.”

“Who you?” Grimlock reached out to lightly poke the smaller mech.

“M-me?  I’m Fulcrum.  And you’re Grimlock.  Everyone knows who you are.  You’re uh… you’re fraggin’ legendary yanno?”

His optics narrowed slightly when he smiled and he chuffed before turning towards the cryotubes, intending on salvaging off the bodies.  The first thing he wanted to grab was any weapons they might have. If he was left with his on his frame then there would be other mechs who had theirs still, as long as they hadn’t rusted away.

“Could you uh… put your sword in the ground so I can see over here?  I think there are some supply boxes that I can go through.” Fulcrum asked meekly.

Huffing, Grimlock nodded before shoving the sword down, angled in a way that it could shine it’s fire further and they could both see properly by its light.  Fulcrum seemed less nervous when he was in the light at least, and Grimlock made a note of it, watching as the smaller mech leaned over so he could grab the edge of a crate and pull the top off.  His optics lingered on the lean legs and pert aft, a low growl rumbling up from his throat. If Fulcrum looked over at him, he didn’t know, he forced himself to put his attention back on the cryotubes.  It was a shame the little orange mech was a Decepticon. If he had been an Autobot then maybe they could have shared some quick comfort before they went to steal the ship.


End file.
